Betsy

Betsy was one of my first friends. I remember waking up next to her in a thunderstorm at girl scout camp when we were six years old, terrified of the sounds we somehow thought would reach us through the leaky canvas tent. She held my hand the whole night and everything seemed to be okay.
Twelve years passed and everyone grew up. We grew out of girl scouts and everyone morphed into their college selves, but Betsy still kept the same smile she had when we were in the second grade.
She was driving eastbound down M-14 on a Tuesday afternoon. Maybe she was distracted, maybe going too fast, or maybe there was too much ice on the roads; but something pushed her car into the guardrail.
She wasn't wearing her seatbelt.
After being ejected from the car she was run over by a tractor-trailer.
The passenger walked away with minor injuries. If Betsy had been wearing her seatbelt, she probably would've walked away too.
Rest in Peace Betsy.